It Was Not Love
by shyath
Summary: Femslash. Lily/Narcissa. Written for prompt: "I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,/or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off./I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,/in secret, between the shadow and the soul."
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter. Seriously.

**Full Title: It Was Not Love (Until It Became Impossible To Be Anything But)**

**A/N:** Written for dysfuncentine 2011.

**A/N2: **I hope I've done an adequate job of resisting the siren's call of fluffiness (my usual mode of writing) and written something that's on par with what the prompter's envisioned and in line with the rationale of the fest. In any case, I do hope everyone will enjoy the fic and please, please review (it doesn't take long and it'll make me go aww). Also! For those who would like to see a fluffy continuation to this fic, please include the phrase "Fluffy Bunnies R Us" in your reviews. Cheers!

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It was not love, what they had. It simply could not be. Narcissa knew this: because if it were (love), she should not want to hurt Lily the way she was (pulling and pushing until only choked sobs could leave Lily's lips at her touch). If it were (more than a simple need for physical contact), Narcissa should not feel like her heart was pounding to the point of shattering whenever Lily murmured her name. She should not want to keep the redhead quiet with kisses hard enough to bruise, hard enough to _be_ something that could no longer be described as such. She should not feel the urge to mar flawless skin with unforgiving nails, should not allow her hands to roam (and claim) and bury themselves so, so deeply that it ended up feeling like they had fused their two separate selves into one homogeneity (LilyandNarcissa – and no, it could _not_ mean anything that she felt _something_ at the mere notion of it).

So, it could not be love, Narcissa _knew_ what they had could not be love, was _not_ love. For although she understood that she should not hurt Lily (sweet, trusting, beautiful, oh so beautiful Lily), not like _this_, not _Lily_ in any case, she just could not stop herself (from reaching out, from breathing Lily in, from drowning in all that was red-haired and pale-skinned and green-eyed until, until her darkest, deepest thoughts had had the time to find chinks in her armour and succeeded to escape their cage and transform themselves into actions – and her apologies, however sincere and heartfelt they might be, were always so coloured with fury and self-loathing and general confusion so as to lose the effectiveness of the gesture itself) and Lily, dear Lily was not stopping her either (so, how could anyone expect her, expect _Narcissa Black_ – who was easy on the eyes, but honestly, was that not all there was to her? – to stop herself?).

"Why won't you just leave me?" Narcissa would invariably enquire (in a voice desperate enough to sound like a plea, the intensity of the emotion growing more so every time the question was asked of Lily) as they lay spent next to each other, limbs tangled with the intimacy of familiarity and routine, hair splayed and twined endlessly as they shared a single pillow, fingers and eyes kept apart from each other by a gaping gulf that was more imaginary than real (and they were so painfully aware of this, but it was so much easier to focus on the physical issues than on all that remained unspoken).

There was a short quiet that followed, but Lily could never ignore Narcissa for very long, would never be able to pretend that she could not understand the underlying sentiments beneath Narcissa's hesitance and resistance and _denial_ and, therefore, had decided from the very beginning to be, out of the pair, the one to never shy from voicing and showing _exactly_ how she felt. "You know very well why," Lily responded softly, her voice more than a little frail and delicate, very much like the rosebud Narcissa had always secretly compared her to.

"I can't stop myself!" Narcissa snapped, her eyes burning as she glared at Lily as if it were the redhead's fault (and in a way, it was – for Lily had deviated from the script, so to speak, and Narcissa was not positive how to proceed and she was noticeably floundering as she struggled to maintain composure in the face of an entirely novel circumstance – and what did it say about Lily that she felt somewhat exhilarated to see this side of Narcissa for the first time?). "So _you_ have to."

"Don't tell me what to do!" And there it was: the fire that helped the Sorting Hat decide that Lily was a Gryffindor rather than a Ravenclaw, the barely there but more than adequately sharp thorns that cemented Lily as a rose in Narcissa's mind instead of her namesake.

"I'm not," Narcissa argued weakly, dropping her eyes.

"I know what I want," Lily said in a gentler voice. _And you're it._

Narcissa scoffed as she pulled away from Lily's warmth. "I _hurt_ you, Lil."

"And I keep coming back for more. Doesn't that tell you something?"

"Yes. You're just as messed up in the head as I am. At least I have my family as an excuse, what's yours?" Narcissa grumbled.

"I know what I want," Lily repeated firmly.

"I wish you didn't," Narcissa murmured.

Lily reached out to brush her knuckles against Narcissa's cheek. "I wish you'd stop fighting this."

Narcissa swallowed thickly and turned away from Lily's beseeching eyes. "You should go. We don't want our friends to get suspicious."

"I'll wait for you," Lily said finally after a few seconds of tense silence had passed.

Narcissa shook her head half-heartedly. "Don't. I won't come."

"Yes, you will," Lily told her, leaning in to press a lingering kiss against the corner of Narcissa's pursed lips. "You'll see."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter. Seriously.

**A/N:** Not as fluffy as I thought it would be, but given that it ends relatively happily, that fulfils the requirements for fluffiness, no? Also, unbeta-ed! All mistakes are therefore mine, apologies. I hope everyone enjoy reading this and please, please REVIEW after reading! Let me know what you think, I thought it might have deviated from the tone of the first part halfway through, but oh well. Cheers! (And remember to REVIEW!)

**A/N2:** Should this end here? Or not?

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Lily was not a romantic. As a child, she had often scoffed as Petunia immersed herself in tales of happily ever after, had crinkled her nose haughtily as her elder sister coaxed her to browse the wedding catalogues together. So, no, Lily was not a romantic. However, being with Narcissa, being around her, being _in_ her brought out these, these _sensations_ that made her skin crawl, that made her go _soft_, that made her feel like happily ever after was entirely plausible.

Except it was most assuredly _not_. It was especially evident when Narcissa pulled away from her embrace, cradling herself as she trembled and tried in vain to constrain her self-loathing, rubbing furiously at her arms and legs and _everywhere else_ as if she could somehow remove any and all traces of what they had just done.

Lily knew, she _knew_ how loving her (for what else could it be? what else could have compelled Narcissa to keep coming back to her? what would have urged Lily herself to promise to do anything, _anything_ if Narcissa would keep coming back?) was slowly but surely killing Narcissa inside, how it confused the blonde, made her question everything about herself and all that she believed in, made her hate herself and Lily (and what should be sweet grew _bitter_ and painful).

Lily supposed she could do the honourable thing, _should_ do it. She could tell Narcissa to stay away, could keep her distance from the blonde, but Narcissa had changed her, had made her reconsider her initial stance and she realised that maybe, just maybe she was a romantic after all (or one exclusively for Narcissa – she could not quite describe how much the idea appealed to her) and she was selfish because of it.

She wanted Narcissa, she wanted the blonde in whatever way she could get her. So, she kept her silence and encouraged Narcissa's distinct brand of affection, revelled in the pain interlaced with love, let her heart break as she watched Narcissa come apart with guilt – _anything_ as long as Narcissa stayed with her.

In a sense, therefore, their time came to pass a little like a dream. For Lily would try to retain the happy bits and discard the less positive pieces. She could (would) never recall with perfect (or any) clarity the particular details, but the broad impressions remained like indelible signposts in her mind.

It never took anything more than the most trifling of incidents – the mere trace of vanilla in the air, the brief gleam of blonde hair, the chance brush of _fabric_ against that sensitive spot behind her right ear – to bring her back to their secret room, where she would have Narcissa's arms wrapped so tightly around her she should honestly feel confined, see her eyes professing all that her lips were unable to, feel her heart thrumming a steady beat against her own.

The memory (altered as it was, constructed of a thousand tiny snippets of what had been and her dearest _wishes_ of what would be) was gentle like Narcissa never had been, but Lily knew she could be. It buoyed her through her days, kept her grounded as she waited for the next time Narcissa would cave in and seek her out and unleash her desire and love like she was attempting to drown her.

Even so, it had been more than a few days since their last encounter and Lily was somewhat afraid that their typical banter had ceased being just that and turned into reality.

"_I'll wait for you," Lily said finally after a few seconds of tense silence had passed._

_Narcissa shook her head half-heartedly. "Don't. I won't come."_

Lily paled as the memory replayed and she was halfway out of her chair (to do _what_ exactly?) when a familiar figure slid furtively into the seat across from her. She exhaled in relief discreetly and adopted a confident expression. "I told you you couldn't stay away," she declared with more triumph than she thought she would be able to muster.

"I don't think those were your exact words," Narcissa argued weakly as she glanced about the library like she expected someone to come out and drop in a dead faint upon seeing the two of them being civil in each other's company in public.

Lily rolled her eyes. "I didn't miss the gist of it, did I? And would you stop doing that? You look demented. No one ever comes to this corner of the library, trust me."

Narcissa looked miffed, but settled down perceptibly.

Lily stifled a smile. "So, what brings you here?"

Narcissa's countenance darkened. "I saw you."

Lily frowned. "Would you care to elaborate?"

"I _saw_ you," she repeated.

"I really don't understand, Cissa."

"I saw you with him, with that _despicable_ Potter boy. You were holding hands!"

Lily did let herself smile at that point. "Oh."

"Oh?"

"Yes. _Oh_, Cissa."

"Are you dating that – that _thing_?"

"For your information, that _thing_ happens to have a name. A perfectly respectable name. Would James Potter ring any bell? And why would it matter if I were? After all, _we_ are not dating, are we?"

Narcissa's jaw worked furiously. "I – so, so, you _are_ dating him?"

Lily regarded the blonde steadily, maintaining a neutral expression. "I repeat: why would it matter? And why does it bother you so much?"

Narcissa's shoulders drooped. "It doesn't," she managed finally, smiling painfully tightly. "After all, _we_ are not dating."

Lily blinked. "Of course not."

There was a short, pregnant quiet before Narcissa broke it with a hushed voice, "_Are_ you dating him?"

Lily closed her eyes, feeling the telltale pricking in her eyes that warned of impending tears. "No."

"Oh."

Lily opened her eyes and glared at a plainly reassured Narcissa. "Because _I_ know what I want."

Narcissa slumped in her seat uncharacteristically. "I know," she whispered.

Lily bit her bottom lip and murmured most reluctantly, "What do you want?" _Is it me?_

Narcissa's eyes widened. "W-what are you talking about?"

Lily inhaled sharply and dropped her eyes. This was where she should back down, accept that she could not push Narcissa's hand and take what she would give. This was where she formally requested the resumption of their understanding, considered her options and planned her attack against a future, (hopefully) more compliant Narcissa. This was – "I can't do this anymore with you, Cissa." _This is me not thinking ahead for once._

"H-h-how do you mean?" Narcissa stuttered embarrassingly. _Blacks produced whole, lucid sentences, Narcissa!_

"James, the Potter boy," she clarified, "he has been properly courting me for months, Cissa. Yes, he's not perfect, he's not _you_ and Merlin _knows_ how much I want you, how desperately I _need_ you, but I can't keep doing what we've been doing, Cissa. It's killing me." _And you_. "James _wants_ me, Cissa, wants to be with me. You, _you_ can't even look at me when we pass each other during the day!" Lily rubbed her eyes, pausing to collect herself.

"I'm sorry," Narcissa answered softly, her voice nothing more than a sigh, her body shivering with the force of her silent tears. "I'm so sorry. I told you I couldn't. I _couldn't_. You need to be the one to walk away. I'm not strong enough to do that, so you -"

"Why are you here then?" Lily demanded. "Why were you so upset that James held my hand?"

"N-nothing! I was just, just c-curious, is all -"

"Why couldn't you be honest? It's just me. It's just _us_ here. You're only hurting us, hurting yourself."

"I can't, Lil -"

"You can! You just won't!" Lily deflated as quickly as she lost her temper. "I – and I cannot keep up with your farce anymore."

Narcissa gasped as if Lily had slapped her.

"I think you should go."

Narcissa threw her arms across the table to grab onto Lily's hands. "Please don't say that, please don't tell me to go. Please, you can't tell me that, you know I want you, I want you so, so badly, but I can't – so please, please don't tell me to -"

"Are you embarrassed of me? Is that why you're resisting? You're embarrassed to be with a Muggleborn?"

"Never! You're an exception, Lil, _my_ exception, you've always been! I just, just _can't_. You know how my parents would, how my _sister_ would – oh Merlin, if Bella ever found out about us, she'd hurt you, she'd _break_ you and I cannot, cannot live knowing that I'm the cause of that and -"

Lily squeezed Narcissa's hands to calm her down. "All I want," she said softly and slowly, "all I've ever wanted, Cissa, is for you to tell me the truth. I'm not asking for any lasting commitments. We are still in school. We don't have to tell your parents, we don't have to tell everyone. All I ask is that we stop pretending to be strangers in public, that you stop beating yourself up every time we're together. That's all. Is that okay?"

Narcissa's mouth gaped in shock. "R-r-really?"

"That's all I'm asking for. Can you do that?"

The blonde nodded, bringing Lily's hands to her lips and, after another hasty look around, raining down fervent kisses on the redhead's fingertips. "I'm sorry that I'm so difficult." She kept Lily's hands folded underneath her chin, unwittingly conveying more than she was willing to divulge. "I'm so sorry that I hurt you. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."

Lily's heart skipped a beat at the way Narcissa was looking at her. "Actually," she muttered, finding it hard to speak all of a sudden, her throat choking like she wanted to cry (but crying was the furthest thing from her mind), "I find you quite easy to understand."

Narcissa quirked an eyebrow, grateful that the serious conversation seemed finished and they were turning to the safety of familiar bantering. "Is that so?"

"It is so," Lily confirmed. "You like to make things complicated for yourself. For instance, you were in so much denial that everything became hurtful to you. Your refusal to admit your feelings, to yourself and to anyone else, and your desperate justification of them forged this jumbled framework from which every aspect of our relationship is established."

"I beg your pardon?"

Lily smirked. "Of course, that is not to say that you are no longer in denial now. I believe, however, that our conversation was productive and would lead you toward the eventuality of expressing your undying love for me."

Narcissa stared at Lily.

"You don't agree?"

"Are you saying I'm in l-l-l-l word with you?"

Lily nodded empathically. "Baby steps, sweetheart."

Narcissa blushed at the term of endearment. "B-b-but I'm not -"

Lily beamed. "Baby steps, Cissa."

Narcissa croaked indignantly, "I'm not!"

Lily chewed her bottom lip, looking thoroughly amused. "Of course not."

"Lil!" Narcissa whined and pouted at the same time.

Lily smiled adoringly at the blonde and retrieved her hands gently from Narcissa's hold to begin gathering her things.

"Where are you going?"

"Well, we just reconciled our differences. The occasion calls for a celebration, wouldn't you say?"

"A _celebration_?"

"Namely you, me, a lot less clothing, a lot less talking and a lot more touching. I was thinking that the Room of Requirements would suit our purposes very well. However, should you dawdle anymore than you already are, I suppose this table here would just have to do -"

Narcissa jumped up, cheeks flushed as brightly as Lily's hair caught in the afternoon sun and began throwing Lily's books into her bag. "I t-think the Room of Requirement would be a lot more forgiving to our backs."

"Of course, Cissa."

"But I'm still _not_, just so you know."

"Sure you're not."

"Lil!"

"But if you were wondering …"

"What?"

"I am too."


End file.
